


the letter

by saltyplaydough



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Gen, M/M, character introspection, i lied robert's only here in spirit but it counts ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyplaydough/pseuds/saltyplaydough
Summary: It takes Vic a while to realise it's been days since she's seen Aaron, or the letter Robert's sent her from prison.
Relationships: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	the letter

It’s taken Victoria a while to realise what’s happening, she’ll admit that, but it’s not like Aaron hasn’t turned into even more of a recluse lately. And with the whole letter incident, and then with Liv’s diagnosis as well, she’d thought it best to give him a little extra time. Some space.

And it’s not like she’s not got enough on her plate to keep her busy.

She’s tried reaching out to Robert again, cautiously hopeful that his sending that letter meant she could nudge him towards allowing visitations again. And she’s been nervously preparing for the birth as well, checking and rechecking her hospital bag so she doesn’t have to think about the barrage of unsolicited birthing horror stories offered up by nosy neighbours and overly-friendly expectant women she’s met while waiting for her appointments at the hospital. Wendy’s presence looming over her everywhere she turns hasn’t helped in calming her nerves one bit either.

She pushes through her door quickly and locks it, desperate to avoid run-ins with anymore “ _Oh, you look ready to pop! It’ll be any day now”_ s and the intrusive hands that often comes along with it, reaching out to touch her belly like it’s a watermelon in David’s shop. If she has to listen to one more person comment on her size or inform _her_ of how far along she must be, things will turn violent very quickly.

She’s been on her feet for 3 hours now. She feels trapped in her jumper, sweaty and uncomfortable even with the weather app on her phone informing her she shouldn’t be, and all she wants to do is get out of these clothes, wash away the smells of the pub kitchen, and lie starfished out in bed.

That’s the only thought that gets her up the stairs instead of allowing her to fall straight into the sofa like a part of her wants to.

She’s in her room, finally stripped of her jumper that she’s quite defiantly thrown onto the floor—an action she immediately regrets, knowing the awkward bend-squat hybrid of a pose she’ll have to perform to pick it up later—when she catches her reflection in the mirror.

Vic wants to look away. She does, for a few seconds, before screwing her eyes shut a further few seconds and deliberately turning her whole body to face the mirror.

 _This_ , it’s her, she thinks shakily. She can handle looking at it- no. At _herself_.

Vic looks. It’s been a while since she’s considered herself like that. As a whole, instead of isolated sections of organs and muscles and bones and skin, broken down by uses and senses. Of hands (stirring and chopping) and feet (swollen and aching), and even eyelids (wet streak of a brush and a trail of black). Of the taut skin of her belly, the womb on the other side of it (keeping her baby alive).

She looks at her entirety and is hit by just how much she’s changed. She runs a hand through her short fringe, pushing it off where it sticks to her forehead with sweat. Looks at the small transformations of her face: her cheeks, her jaw, the set of her mouth. There’s something about her eyes too, but she’s not sure it’s not just a trick of the light. She looks at the way her arms hang by her side, bridging her shoulders—and the freckles there that fade as they move down—with her wrists. Is surprised by the way she’s subconsciously, perhaps nervously, pressing her palms to her thighs, and watches herself unfurl when she moves to relax them like she’s seeing her body work for the first time.

She wonders how much of this change is due to the pregnancy, wonders how else her life has left its mark on her body. If she looks long enough, will she be able to see it all documented on her skin? The family she’s lost, the joys, the heartache. That night.

She wants to stop looking. Instead, she tamps down on the panic climbing up her chest. She’s changed so much in such a short time and she hasn’t even been _looking_. What else has she missed? Has she lost more of herself than she knows?

Vic looks away from the mirror then, blinking off the layer of tears that was starting to cloud her view anyway.

No. Whatever she thinks she’s lost, she’ll just have to find it again. She’s got time to look.

As for the family she’s lost, well. Andy’s… No news is good news. Maybe. Or at least she has to believe that, because what’s the alternative?

She doesn’t want to think about Adam right now.

And Robert’s not lost, not when he’s finally reached out. _I’ll write again soon_ , he’d said. Promised, even. So no, he’s not lost. Just hidden. And too much of a stubborn idiot for his own good.

She wants to laugh at finding reassurance in the words of a man stuck in prison for 14 years, who won’t even let his family see him, but it’s something. It’s a lot, actually. It’s Robert. Robert, who knows her. Who she was and who she is. Sure, he’d had his pig-headed moments that made her want to scream and cry in his face, but all she’s thinking about now is the time they’d spent in France, just the two of them, a much needed retreat from everything that was once home.

Much of it was a blur, if she’s honest. She didn’t leave the hotel some days. Couldn’t even leave her bed some mornings. On those days, all she could manage holding on to was the smell of freshly baked bread Robert had bought from the bakery across the street and his warm hand pressed alongside hers as he went on about the shop clerk who he swears thought he was a native speaker, and the security guard downstairs who’s been teaching him new phrases. All in a voice almost too gentle for her to handle.

On the days she did allow him to show her around, he’d played inept tour guide, making up ridiculous, elaborate histories of places and people just to see her exasperated smile.

She thinks about the letter. He’d wanted her to have fun for the both of them, and she decides she’ll have to, won’t she? She’ll live and cry and laugh and _look_ for the both of them, and then she’ll tell him all about it once she’s badgered him into allowing phone calls and visitations. She can be _his_ inept tour guide this time, let him know there’s a whole ridiculous world waiting for him on the other side.

She’ll have to read the letter again, she thinks, as she carries on getting ready for bed.

It’s only when she’s an exhale away from sleep that she remembers she doesn’t actually have it. The letter’s still with Aaron.

Aaron, who she hasn’t seen or heard from in days.

:::

It’s not like they’ve been attached at the hip or anything, but she’s grown used to the odd shared meals and Aaron asking if she’s alright, if she’s been getting anymore grief from you-know-who, while Vic does her own covert checking-in to see if Aaron’s… well not okay, but holding on somehow.

And then Vic’s letter had arrived and Aaron’s _hadn’t_ , and things had gotten a little...

So she’d decided to give him some space.

Now, it’s been days, and she’s wondering if she’s given him too much of it. She’s not gonna have _him_ start hiding away and all.

By the time she makes her way into work the next day, she’s beyond worried.

“Chas, have you seen Aaron about?” she asks, as soon as she walks through the woolpack doors.

“Yeah? Just did, a few minutes ago. Why, has somethin’ happened?”

“No! No, just curious. Haven’t seen him around, that’s all.”

So he’s not been hiding away, then.

She wonders if it’s just her he’s been hiding from, but that’s probably too paranoid a thought. Why would he?

Unless… was this about the letter? Was he angry with _her_ for getting one when he didn’t?

Right, that’s it. She’s not letting this go on any longer, if only so she can get her sanity back.

“Er, I’ll be back in a bit, just got to nip ta the loo, haha, you know how it is,” she says, pointing vaguely at her stomach, before waddling out of there as quickly as she can, away from Chas yelling after her that the loo is _that_ way.

:::

She’s so out of breath by the time she’s beating the Mill’s door down, having decided all sorts by now. What if he hates her, she thinks. And then she thinks, how _dare_ he hate her. Does he think she’s got any control over this?

Once she’s decided no one’s going to answer the door (coincidentally around the time her arms start to tire), she pulls out her phone and sends him a text.

_where r u???_

It’s only when she’s about to turn back up the street towards the woolpack that she sees him, clearly walking towards his house, his attention trained on his phone screen and his thumb endlessly scrolling.

He must’ve seen the text then, just not wanted to send one back.

“Aaron!”

She’s not prepared for the way he jumps, eyes snapping up and phone being hurriedly pushed into the pocket of his jeans, and it’s almost got her jumping as well. She did come off a bit sharp, she supposes. She blames it on the stress.

She’s also not prepared for the way he’s looking at her like a trapped mouse, sneaking looks past her and around them like he’s searching for a way out. He has _actually_ been avoiding her, then.

“I’ve been looking for ya,” she says, much calmer now.

“Oh?” he says, sounding unsurprised.

Now that she’s actually looking at him, she can’t help but notice the changes in him as well. She knows they’ve been present for a while, she’s not _blind_ , but seeing him anew after having not seen him for a few days seems to have refreshed her view of him, made it more precise.

She looks at how pale his skin has become, at the red rim of his eyes, and the circles under them. His shoulders are slumped around him, matching the downturn of his lips and the sad slope of his eyes. Did he get sadder in the few days she wasn’t looking? Or has he been like this for months?

“Vic, you alright? Did something happen with...” He glances back up the street, and Vic realises he means the Posners.

She hurries to reassure him, not wanting him worrying over that now, when he’s looking this miserable.

“No,” she flaps away at his worry, “See, I remembered you still had that letter, and,” she doesn’t miss the way his body stiffens at that, “realised I haven’t seen you in a while. That’s all,” she adds, trying to sound casual.

“Letter?” he asks, eyes addressing the air beside Vic’s left ear.

She was hoping they could just skim over that bit. Why did she even mention the letter?

Vic’s not sure why she hasn’t just changed the subject by this point, but it doesn’t stop her from clarifying, “From Robert?” Although Aaron clearly knows which letter she means. His eyes are already wet.

She feels rooted to the ground, waiting for a response she doesn’t need, to a question she didn’t even ask. She can’t remember why she was so adamant about seeing him in the first place.

She watches helplessly as Aaron chews on his lip and continues to avoid her gaze, searching for a way out of the awkward spiral she’s dropped them both in.

“Oh, that,” is what he finally settles on, his voice sounding like it’s being dragged through gravel. He’s looking at the ground in front of her, expression resigned, like she’s about to start marching him towards his execution block.

She wonders if he thinks she’s here to ask for the letter back. Wonders if a part of her had been looking for him for that very reason.

“Anyway, I really need to be heading in to work before Marlon sends out a search party.”

She picks up on the surprise on his face, and it confirms what she’s already accepting. She’s not seeing that letter again.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Aaron asks, now with a questioning frown, face growing more expressive knowing there’s no immediate threat of losing his letter.

“Oh don’t start. I’ve already cut back on my hours.” She’s glad they’re back on less tense ground though.

“But you... you’ve been doin’ alright, yeah?”

“Yeah. C’mere,” she says, before moving to hug her arms around him.

“Good,” he says, and she can feel his cheek moving from where it’s pressed against the side of her head. “That’s good, Vic. Sorry I haven’t been around much. Been busy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she mumbles into his jacket, metal zip pushing uncomfortably against her nose. She doesn’t move away.

She thinks back to when they were both teenagers. She never thought their lives would end up so entangled then. But here they are, having married each other’s brothers and lost each other’s brothers with one or two other shared experiences thrown in. She thinks they probably understand each other in a way not many others do, and she holds on tighter at that thought before stepping back and clearing her throat.

She nods at him, about to be on her way again, but he stops her.

“Meet you at the pub for lunch?”

Vic raises her eyebrows.

Aaron rolls his eyes at her silent question, sighs like _this_ is the biggest struggle of his life. “My shout,” he confirms.

“I could get used to this,” she says, smirking up at him.

“Well, don’t.” He scowls at her in that way he only reserves for people he likes, and she almost sees a shadow of the boy she once knew.

She doesn’t know yet if the man he’d grown to be over the last years, the happy, content one, is entirely lost. She hopes not, because she knows how proud Aaron had been of that man. She’d seen that quiet pride shine out of him.

But she does know that she knew him before all of this and she’ll know him again after. And maybe that could mean he _can’t_ be all lost.

“Okay, I’ve gotta go.”

“ _Go_ , then!” Aaron says, affecting exasperation with his widened eyes and gesturing arms.

She’s staring at him, mouth open in shock, barely suppressing the urge to smile. At least he’ll never stop being unbelievably rude. And after she was so nice to him too, the prick.

“Just for that, I’m ordering two deserts.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! You can also find me on tumblr at [spamela-hamderson](https://spamela-hamderson.tumblr.com/)


End file.
